stranded
by KyraKuran
Summary: Kiya is sick with a disease and wants to get away from her adopted parents by going to earth. this is her story


"Getting aboard this flight was the only thing I had wanted. I was sick and dying. I wanted to get away from my overbearing parents so I left. I planned on going to earth. I had different family there."

Once I was onboard I saw Crypto tanks, quite a few of them. One had a very peculiar warning label. "LOCKOUT PROTCOL IN EFFECT" that was in bright green neon letters. Underneath that is: "NO EARLY RELEASE"

I lifted my head and sniffed. There was an animalistic scent to it. I walked closer and observed the man in the tank. A blonde haired man walked forward to stop me. "You shouldn't be standing so close." He said haughtily.

"Why not?" I asked tilting my head. I smoothed down my dress and made sure my claws weren't showing. The man smirked.

"He's a dangerous criminal." He said. I nodded and smiled.

"Thank you for telling me. What's your name?" I asked.

"Johns." He said. "You?"

"Kiya" I said. I walked over to my own tank and stepped in.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take." I muttered in contempt before shutting and activating the tank. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sound of screams and crunched metal woke me up. I saw people being thrown around and dying. It reminded me of me past. A siren was going off and I knew we were crashing. I tried to open my tank but was stopped by a beam falling on top and holding it shut.

"No, I can't die here. I have to die on earth." I said pushing against the door. "Help, please, I'm still alive!" I screamed. I heard a very high pitched screeching noise and cringe shrinking into the back of the tank. The metal beam was being pushed to the side. I took one lost breath and closed my eyes, escaping for a little bit.

Johns stood in front of the girl's cypto tank. He had heard her screaming and took a break from rushing over to Riddick to help get the beam off her tank. He waited for her to come out for a good five minutes and then flung the door open.

"Shit." He said. He walked over to her, picked her up and then continued over to Riddicks tube.

"SHIT!" He yelled this time dropping Kiya onto the ground. Johns started fretting. "We have a girl sleeping rightnow, escaped convict, on a deserted planet, with no water that we know of. This is perfect." He ranted.

~~~~~~Riddick's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For someone who made his living hauling dangerous criminals across the galaxy, Johns was very unobservant, so much so that it almost took the pleasure out of me getting the drop on him…almost. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, crawling up onto the tangled beams that crisscrossed the ceiling of the hull with a set of cuffs on my wrists _and_ my ankles, but I'd managed it just fine, just like I managed to do most things in my life that were not exactly pleasant…hell…that described my whole life…doing things that weren't easy and/or pleasant…they were just life.

Forty plus had been whittled down to twelve, plus me to make it an unlucky thirteen…and one of those was wheezing his last breaths. It would be much easier to deal with eleven as opposed to forty…at least that was what I told myself.

Another female, smelling of sweat and leather, bedecked in heavy boots and a tool belt seemed to be close with the guy that stood beside her, a dark, powerfully built man whose rough features gave a hint that there was more than a little aboriginal blood in his makeup. She was dangerous, the most deceptive kind, hiding itself in a façade that drew and intrigued, a deadly sexiness that lured men like a moth to a flame. This duo were what was referred to as "bushwhackers"…a polite enough term for hunters of trophies and monsters who gave guided tours on the side…and who also took other work on the side from the Company, less polite work that involved mercenary killing, if I was to be asked for my opinion on the pair, at least.

The kid who was traveling alone gave me a little chuckle, a bitty girl pretending to be a boy, for whatever reason, all but shaking with fear on the inside, but doing a damn good job of keeping it to herself. She had a spine, I could sense that immediately, but what would she do when faced with choosing between the side of standing with her fellow man and more than likely meeting an unpleasant end or turning traitor and screwing over any and all who'd help her? Hmm…it was an interesting prospect.

Then there was the big, bad merc…the one who'd been dragging my convict ass across hell and back…William J. Johns, a mass of walking, talking contradictions. He was the polished _lawman_, but he was also the treacherous addict who'd sell his own mother for his next spike. He was the savior of the innocents, protecting them from the likes of those like me, when he wasn't killing them himself, that was. He was the one fly in the ointment of me being free to roam…and I looked forward to dispatching his sorry excuse for a soul from my existence.

Last, but certainly not least, was the little kitten I smelt earlier. She just had a run in with Johns, more though, not because she wanted to but because he saved her. I had to have her once I got this planet, she was going to be mine.

Johns stiffened moments before my ankle chain encircled his throat, instinct kicking in just a fraction of a second too late. I felt a thrill of excitement take hold of me as I wound the heavy shackle around his neck, long-awaited exhilaration as I yanked hard against the hold that I had on him, hard enough to almost pull his head off, almost, but not quite…no…I wanted to savor the moment just a little longer.

I twisted my body, squeezing him harder and harder, laughing to myself as his fingers pulled and scratched ineffectually at the chain. This was a position that he'd rarely, if ever, found himself in before, and it felt good, to know that I was the one who was in charge…at least I was until he reached for, and found, the baton that I'd foolishly overlooked, the weighted blackjack that he managed to open and swing blindly at my legs, smacking my thighs and…ouch…my junk over and over again.

I managed to hold onto the beam on the ceiling for a while, ignoring the pain like I'd taught myself to over the years, doing my best to choke the life from his body, but it became impossible to hold on any longer when he reached up, wheezing and straining, and grabbed hold of my ankles, pulling with every last bit of strength that he possessed, going forward one step, then two, breaking my grip and sending both of us crashing to the ground.

Quick as a flash he jumped to his feet and raised the baton high over his head, ready to beat me within an inch of my life, then stopping suddenly, whether due to the audience that stood watching us wide-eyed, or whether because I refused to flinch I couldn't say. He made due with standing over me, pressing his boot against my throat and tapping the tip of the baton against my chin, smirking with some effort as he continued to struggle to breathe.

"You know, one of us is going to get hurt if you keep this up," he said hoarsely, rubbing his throat with his free hand and wincing. "And you can bet your ass that it isn't going to be me."


End file.
